


think on it

by brawler



Category: Dead Space (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Gentle Sex, M/M, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-DS3, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawler/pseuds/brawler
Summary: Carver wants to try something new. One night, he finally mentions it to Isaac. Isaac obliges.
Relationships: John Carver/Isaac Clarke
Kudos: 15





	think on it

It’s a little while after Carver’s had Isaac lying on his chest, back arched and legs splayed wide either side of his own that he begins to think about it again. The city lights outside are filtering in through the spaces in the blinds that aren’t pulled all the way over, which cast long shadows as the lights of the shuttles pass by the window of the apartment. 

Isaac’s lying beside him, quiet, spent and sated like he always is after every one of their rounds, and Carver’s still wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. Isaac isn’t quite asleep yet, and eventually he notices that Carver’s still awake when the noise of him sighing catches his attention.

“Hey,” Isaac’s voice was soft, kind of rough with exhaustion. It almost caught Carver off guard. “You alright?”

Carver turns his head to look at him through the dimness and blinks. “Uh, yeah, I, uh—I’ve just been thinking about something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Isaac asks.

Carver hesitates for a moment, seemingly unsure of what words to use, then he speaks. “Isaac, the stuff I do to you, y’know, like tonight…” he trails off. “Could…could you do to me?”

Isaac gets up to rest on one elbow, and looks Carver in the eyes. “You mean you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Carver says, relieved Isaac is so forthcoming about it but feels oddly wide-eyed and embarrassed at the thought now. “Like, with a toy or something.”

“Mm, I don’t think I could do it any other way if I didn’t do it like that,” Isaac chuckles softly. The light in the room is cool and very low, but Carver still manages to catch the little smile on Isaac’s face. It relaxes him.

“Listen,” Isaac starts. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, alright? It’s late now. I’ll let you think about it some more, then if you still really want to, I’ll go buy us something.”

Carver is quiet, then he nods. “Yeah, sure,” he says, contented, and Isaac moves to begin to settle back down to sleep.

Carver begins to settle down too, turning over under the covers to bridge the gap between himself and Isaac. Isaac reciprocates by resting his head against Carver’s chest, comfortable and warm enough there he doesn’t move again. Carver then nestles his chin on Isaac’s head.

“Goodnight, Carver,” Isaac says softly, sweetly, when Carver stops moving. It makes Carver feel at home.

“‘Night,” Carver replies, then shuts his eyes, and he soon feels himself begin to drift off.

Isaac’s up early the next morning. Like he always is, Carver thinks, and on a Saturday, no less. He figures with everything they’ve been through, Isaac would want to sleep as much as he can now that he actually has the chance. Isaac’s not much of a heavy sleeper though, and says he enjoys the routine anyway. 

Neither of them have to work today; the garage Isaac’s employed at now doesn’t operate on weekends, and Carver doesn’t have another security gig until next week. By the time Carver’s finally out of bed, Isaac’s already in the kitchen, just about finished the preparation of their breakfast at the stove top. The air is thick with the scent of scrambled eggs, which immediately perks Carver up. Isaac’s pancakes are always too thin for Carver’s liking, but his scrambled eggs are pretty good; he always serves them with lots of black pepper and chives and loads of diced vegetables, and whatever else he can occasionally find to throw in there.

They’re both sitting down at the couch when the subject comes up again. Carver’s leaning over the coffee table in front of them, their little make-shift dining table, halfway through his plate, and Isaac’s sitting next to him, cupping a mug of black coffee. It’s the second one he’s had this morning.

“You thought about it some more?” Isaac asks nonchalantly. He’s already finished his breakfast.

Carver pauses momentarily, the fork crammed full of egg and toast halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, I…I think it’s a good idea.”

Isaac takes a sip from the coffee, notices there’s only about a quarter of it left, and ponders getting himself some more.

”Alright,” he says simply, then leaves the couch to retrieve the pot.

Carver watches Isaac walk to the kitchenette and pour himself some more drink. “What, just like that?” he asks.

Isaac notices his tone is kind of incredulous. “Should there be something more?” he asks. He sits back down on the couch with his cup full of coffee again.

“I don’t know,” Carver says. He continues eating and swallows before speaking again. “I just thought you might, I don’t know, try and talk me out of it?”

Isaac’s brow knits together in concern. “Why would I do that? Are you worried about something? Because if you’re not sure about it, we don’t have to do—”

“No,” Carver interrupts. “I want it. I wanna do it. I’ve just—I’ve just never really done anything like that with anyone before. I don’t know what it’ll be like.”

Isaac nods in understanding, placing his mug down in front of him. He looks at Carver, and the other man realises quickly he’s suddenly feeling very warm. He averts his gaze and focuses on finishing his food.

“You’ll be alright,” Isaac soon says, an encouraging smile on his lips. “I’ll help you. I’ll make sure we do it right.”

Carver’s satisfied with this. He finishes up his breakfast, and later, after the dishes and the pan are cleaned and packed away in the cupboard again, they both get ready to go out, their shoulders knocking against each other in the confined space of the bathroom.

It’s not long before they’re back in their little apartment. Isaac’s toting an inconspicuous black shopping bag that’s carrying the item that he ended up buying for them, and Carver realises he can’t stop thinking about it. Something’s growing in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t seem to differentiate whether it’s excitement or apprehension. Carver voices this nervousness to Isaac, and Isaac suggests they wait until later that evening to begin, to give him a little more time to get used to the idea. Carver agrees, but it doesn’t exactly do all that much to quell his anticipation.

It's just after Carver's had a shower that night when Isaac prompts him. Carver walks out of the bathroom, billows of steam following behind him, using one towel to wipe down his neck and head with another wrapped loosely around his waist. Isaac is sitting on the edge of the bed already waiting for him, wearing only his boxers, and Isaac makes it obvious he’s checking Carver out when spreads his legs and leans back on his hands, scanning him up and down, a smirk on his face as he takes in the sight of Carver’s arms and belly solid with the muscle underneath, his skin soft with moisture.

“Alright, big guy,” Isaac says finally, voice low and noticeably sultry. That instantly gets Carver’s attention. “You ready for this?”

“I, uh—” Carver stammers for a moment, then goes still. His eyes dart very briefly between Isaac and the black bag sitting neatly on the bedside table next to him. Isaac figures he wasn’t expecting it so soon.

He rises off the bed. “It’ll be fine, trust me. Come here,” Isaac says, as he takes Carver’s hands in his and leads him the short distance to the mattress. Carver does trust him, with his life and then some he'll be the first to admit, but he still feels nervous as hell. Isaac pulls the towels hanging off Carver's body and tosses them behind them towards the bathroom. Carver suddenly feels very exposed, and a wave of something strange crashes over him, though he notes to himself it’s kind of silly; it’s not like he’s not been naked in front of Isaac before.

He has been.

Many times, in fact.

Isaac turns Carver so he’s positioned to lie on his back and eases him down. Carver lies on the bed and props himself up, leaning back against it on both elbows, eyes totally affixed on Isaac, waiting.

“Just try and relax a bit, okay, Carver,” Isaac says as he goes to slide off his boxers, tossing them aside too. “I’ll be right back.”

Carver nods, and watches him as he disappears into the bathroom, carrying that same black bag, and slides the door shut behind him. Carver waits for a few minutes, patiently, despite the uneasy feeling growing inside him, and almost jumps at the noise of the door sliding open again to reveal Isaac and the toy, now strapped to his hips, proudly protruding the empty air in front of him.

The sight immediately knocks the wind out of Carver. The dick is black and fairly long; it’s a bit...thinner than Carver remembered it being when he saw it in the store earlier that day, but the harness itself fits pretty comfortably over Isaac’s hips. Isaac himself looks great too; looks confident, in fact. Looks hot. It’s pretty encouraging. 

Isaac walks over to the bed and slides down onto his knees beside Carver. “Roll over,” he says. “I want you face down.” 

Carver’s dick almost jumps at the words. He just about has to shake himself out of it to comply, and he does so slowly.

“Are you gonna, uh…like this? Now?” Carver asks, voice quiet and unsure. Isaac chuckles lightly.

“No, not yet,” he replies, handing Carver a pillow. “I gotta get you ready first. Put this under your stomach.”

Carver gets on one elbow and slides the pillow under him as Isaac instructed, lying back down on his chest once he’s finished. Carver’s bare ass is up in the air now, and if he felt exposed before, it’s even worse here.

Carver feels Isaac move behind him, shifting his weight so he’s better positioned between his legs. Carver then hears the noise of a cap being flicked open, and he realises it’s the tube of lube that was also in the bag. Isaac pours it over his hand generously, and soon begins pumping the toy dick in his fist, lathering it up. Carver watches what he can from over his shoulder, wondering when it’s finally going to happen. His answer comes soon enough when Isaac goes to apply more of the stuff specifically to the index and middle fingers of his right hand.

“You let me know how you feel, okay?” Isaac says as he uses his dry hand to nudge Carver’s legs so he shifts them apart more, revealing more of himself to him. “I don’t want this to hurt, but it might.”

Carver nods silently, and Isaac begins to wet his hole. Carver reflexively curls his fingers into the sheets beneath him at the sensation. It feels unusual and cool; kind of sticky, but not wholly unpleasant. Isaac starts working him there, rubbing circles over the delicate skin, before he stops after a while and purposely presses the finger up against his entrance. The slight pressure sends a tingle up Carver’s back.

“You ready?” Isaac asks. 

Carver nods again. “Yeah,” he replies. “Go ahead.”

And Isaac slides his digit in. Carver gasps a little and Isaac holds it there to let him adjust. Then, he begins to thrust, slowly, sliding his finger in and out, moving it around, getting Carver used to the feeling of being penetrated.

It’s only a small amount of friction, but it already has Carver feeling slightly light headed. He realises soon he wants more, when Isaac pushes in deeper, longer, in response to Carver spreading his legs farther.

“Feels good,” Carver starts, peering over his shoulder. He notices Isaac is looking straight at him. “Really good. Isaac, I—come on, man, give me more.”

“You sure?” Isaac asks, surprised at his sudden eagerness. Carver nods back at him. Isaac pulls his finger out, leaving Carver a little disappointed, until he feels the pads of two fingers press against him this time. Carver waits in silence, and he realises Isaac’s wanting his go-ahead.

“Do it,” Carver says, simply. Isaac immediately obliges, and Carver’s toes curl up. He tenses at being opened farther, and Isaac waits for him to ease up a bit before he begins thrusting again.

At this point Carver’s head begins to fog over; Isaac’s rhythm is slow and deliberate, and he’s using his free hand to hold Carver in place, swiping his thumb over the skin there comfortingly. Carver finds himself starting to gently rock back against Isaac’s hand, wanting more, stirring friction against the pillow nestled below him. Gradually it gets too much, and Carver rises up on one elbow, tosses the whole pillow aside, moves the other hand down to his dick, grips it, and begins to pump along with his hips still rocking needily back against Isaac. Eventually, Isaac manages to brush against the little bundle of nerves inside Carver that makes him choke and stifle a moan, grip the sheets in his hand, and quicken his pace. Isaac lets this go on for some time, making sure Carver’s sufficiently wet and open and ready before signalling he wants to move onto the next phase. Carver groans when Isaac removes his fingers from him.

“Fuck, man, Isaac—come on!” Carver demands at the loss of the feeling, admittedly louder than he wanted to be.

“Get on your back,” Isaac says, moving so Carver has a little more room to turn himself over. Once that’s done, Isaac motions for Carver to put the pillow behind his head, and shuffles back into place, positioning himself so he can hoist Carver’s legs up so they rest either side of his hips. Carver watches, still stroking himself, as Isaac applies more lube to the toy just to be sure, thinking there’s already a surplus of it on there already, but remembers the emphasis Isaac was putting on making sure he does this right — does this carefully — for him.

When Isaac is finished, he moves forwards a bit more and comes to press the tip of the dick to Carver’s entrance. Carver almost recoils from him, realising he’s about to get what he wanted, realising he’s about to experience what he’s fantasied about Isaac doing to him for so many nights before, and he goes quiet again, still. Isaac notices, stops moving too, and stares at him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. Carver nods.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh...kinda nervous...” Carver’s voice trails off and his strokes get slower. He’s thinking about it now; thinking about what it's going to be like, how different it’ll feel, if it’ll hurt like he thinks it will. The trepidation is enough to slightly dim the heat building up in his hand.

“Just try and relax,” Isaac says. “I’ll take it slow. You let me know if it hurts, alright? You can tell me to stop whenever you want.”

Carver’s quiet for a bit longer before replying, “Yeah, okay.”

Isaac steadies himself, then waits for Carver’s permission. Once he nods, Isaac begins to ease the tip in, stopping and starting with every one of Carver's little twitches, until eventually, he's inside him a decent length.

Carver gasps, then moves a little, then stills. Isaac holds it there.

“It’s, it's uh,” Carver begins, voice caught in his throat. “It’s alright. Feels okay.” Still stings a fair bit, though. The sensation of being stretched this far is totally new to him, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. Isaac managed to loosen him up pretty well. It makes Carver wonder how many times he's done this before; who else he's done this with before.

Isaac seems relieved at this, and smiles at him, pushing slightly further in, but not far enough, Carver feels. He splays his legs a bit wider, signalling Isaac to do it — to start fucking him. Isaac complies, and starts thrusting; shallow at first, cautious, as he watches Carver attentively, trying to gauge what would be right for him, then he begins to fuck him in earnest, setting a rhythm that starts to make Carver’s heart pound in his chest.

Carver pumps himself harder, quicker; moans when Isaac shifts again and brushes against that spot that has Carver spilling out a fit of _God, yes, there, fuck,_ capped off with Isaac’s name. Isaac groans at this, the sound setting Carver off even more, and he lifts his ass up in an attempt to get that feeling back again.

At some point Isaac takes Carver’s dick from his hand, watches him settle the back of his forearm against his forehead, and the hand resting beside him on the bed balls into a fist, clenching the sheets. Isaac cups his balls with his free hand and fondles him as he pumps him. Carver’s eyes are closed now, his face hot and flushed, and he's biting down onto his lip. Carver’s dick is slick; slick with pre-cum and the residual lube from Isaac’s hand.

Isaac feels the telltale prickle of a couple beads of sweat start to bloom across his forehead and realises he’s beginning to feel tired now, not really being used to this kind of action. Usually it’s Carver who lies him down on his back, slides between his legs, bucks his hips into him and does all the heavy-lifting as Isaac moans and mewls beneath him. Isaac's started to slow down a bit, and they joke about it sometimes — he’s getting on in years now, loathe as he is to admit it — but it's just easier that way. They never really questioned it. Isaac thinks about how that strict workout regimen of Carver’s, which is something he still carries with him from his military days, is definitely beneficial in more ways than one. It honestly astonishes Isaac sometimes, knowing just how long and how hard Carver can keep that kind of pace up. 

The thought makes Isaac’s eyes, now heavy and lidded, drift slowly across Carver’s chest. He admires the thick, dark hair across his pecs, the few scars there, and looks down, down further past his belly, over the faint stretch marks, to the shape of his thighs thick and pressed tightly against him. _Fuck, he’s hot,_ Isaac thinks for the umpteenth time that he’s known Carver, taking in the shape of the slight paunch on his stomach. Isaac goes to place a hand there just to feel him, still pumping with his other, and Carver makes another noise at that sudden contact, all warm and soft and nice. Isaac can feel the muscle underneath his hand as Carver breathes; it's strong and tight, and it makes Isaac shudder a little. He can feel his own arousal dripping down the inside of his thighs.

Carver’s head is swimming; wet, hot fervour enveloping him further with every thrust as he feels himself creep closer and closer to the edge. Gradually, he stops trying to hold the noises in all together, and lets them pour out freely, the moans successfully reinvigorating and spurring Isaac on.

Carver never has to tell Isaac to stop.

He makes a new sound now; one that’s louder, more frantic than before, more desperate. “Isaac, Isaac—” Carver starts, cutting himself off with a gasp. “Isaac, harder! Isaac—”

Isaac moves his hand from Carver’s stomach to hook under his knee and hike his leg up so he can lean forwards more and hit him at a better angle. One, two, three, _four_ more thrusts — that was all it took like that. Carver groans as Isaac sends reverberations of searing white hot pleasure up his spine that floods his head and makes his vision go a little funny. Isaac follows suit, the friction of the harness rubbing against him and the noises Carver makes beneath him being all Isaac needed to get himself over the edge too, and he leans in close to kiss him through both their waves of pleasure, his thighs shuddering, his mouth muffling Carver’s cries in the process. Isaac’s hand — still pumping Carver through this — is quickly covered with cum that also coats Carver’s stomach, and Isaac tries his best to keep his pace until it’s over, then slows down, gently rocking his hips forward, eventually coming to a halt. 

Carver is breathing heavily now, harder than he was before, both hands gripping the bed either side of him, the sweat having formed across his forehead and chest making his dark skin look slick and shiny. Isaac lets go of his dick, then slowly pulls his own out of Carver. He rubs Carver’s thighs with either hand comfortingly, soothingly, and sits there like that for a bit, letting himself settle down again, before he gets up to stand beside the bed and begins to unclasp the harness.

As Carver winds down, the sweat on his body starting to cool against his skin, Isaac fetches one of the towels discarded earlier for him to clean himself off with. It makes Carver laugh.

“Laundry day tomorrow?” he asks. Isaac notes the rough edge of breathlessness in his voice as he talks. He watches Carver wipe himself down before he climbs back onto the bed beside him, getting up close and resting on his elbow with a palm against his cheek.

“How’d that feel?” Isaac asks. He feels pretty short of breath too. He feels great, but his hips are starting to ache now.

Carver laughs again, a little smile on his lips that makes his cheeks bunch. Isaac’s heart could melt at that sight. “Fuckin—Christ, Isaac, how do you think it felt? I don’t know what I was so worried about!”

Isaac smiles back. “That’s great,” he says. “I’m really glad you enjoyed it.”

Carver tosses the towel aside. “Can we do it again?” he asks, his dark brown eyes suddenly wide and clear and focused on Isaac. This surprises him.

“Wow, was I that good?” Isaac jokes. Carver’s serious, though.

“Yeah, man, I—I can’t remember the last time I felt that good,” Carver’s voice goes kind of quiet as he talks.

Isaac’s eyes soften at this. “Sure, Carver,” comes his gentle reply. 

Carver stares at him as his breathing steadies. He notices how soft Isaac’s lips look now, how shiny they are slick with spit, and it makes Carver want to kiss him again, and again and again, so he brings a hand to the back of Isaac’s neck, presses him closer and does just that. Isaac leans into him, taking in the faint sweet scent of soap still on his skin.

They break apart after a while, like coming up for air, and Carver’s left staring again. He’s fixated on the few lines of silver in Isaac's eyes, and the way the crow’s feet around them crinkle as he smiles, and the greying at his temples that gives him his salt and pepper hair.

Isaac complains about the crow's feet and all the grey occasionally — they're both reminders of his age. But Carver thinks they’re cute. He inwardly scolds himself in that moment for never having revealed that fact to Isaac before.

Eventually, though the silence between them is comfortable and pleasant, Carver breaks it.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For, y'know, doing this for me. I really liked it." Carver notices he still sounds kind of shaky.

"No problem," Isaac says plainly. There's another bout of silence before Isaac speaks again.

“You hungry?” he asks. Carver nods in response.

“That’s good,” Isaac says. “Because it’s your turn to cook tonight.”

Carver’s face suddenly scrunches up and it makes Isaac laugh. He places an apologetic kiss against Carver’s forehead, letting it linger there for a moment, before getting up off the bed, scooping the towels up, and heading towards the bathroom. Carver hears the laundry chute open, then the shower curtain being pulled back, and the shower head cough and sputter to life.

He considers following Isaac in there.

He also considers if he could get away with ordering take-out.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a VERY self-indulgent thing i wrote pretty much for myself featuring one particular hc that i have for isaac after i discovered there's like an abundance of fics where carver tops isaac but none of vice versa, so i wanted to try and remedy that. this also ignores like 90% of awakened and has isaac and carver successfully get back to earth without any hitches after they defeat the brother moon on tau volantis and start to ease back into normal lives because it's what they deserve 
> 
> also a kind of disclaimer: i am a transmasc person but i've had no experience writing any smut featuring trans characters (or smut in general, really) until now so i hope i did ok with this!


End file.
